


Aeternum vale

by Natade13



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Other, all the kids are mentioned, basically last battle gone wrong, chrom and morgan and robin are mentioned repeatedly, lucinas pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natade13/pseuds/Natade13
Summary: Part of you wants sorely to give up, let him kill you, let it all end.But before you are human, before you are a person, you are the princess of Ylisse, and, in this moment, you hold the lives of all of Ylisse in your palm.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about a year ago? And I found it in my writing tag earlier today and kinda... touched it up a bit? I'm still dissatisfied with some parts, specifically the Fighting Grima bit, but... then there are some parts I still really like.

You had failed.

You fall to your knees, hardly taking notice of the spines that dig into your legs, ripping your pants and boots and leaving marks on your skin.

You know Grima stands with your incapacitated mother yards away, but, in that moment, it doesn’t matter.

Before you lay, scattered about the back of the Fell Dragon, the corpses of your fellow Shepherds.

Your father.

Your sibling.

Your lover. 

Your friends, your family, your comrades.

They’re all dead.

There was blood everywhere.

On your clothes, on your skin, on the dragons scales.

In your mouth, under your nails, all over the bodies.

Under the bodies of your comrades.

You don't want to accept it, but you know you have to.

They’re all dead.

They're dead.

They're dead.

And it’s your fault.

You scream.

You scream and sob until there is no air left in your lungs, no tears left to cry, and your voice is raw.

It feels as though molten lava trickles down your throat, into your lungs and heart, spilling from your eyes as you sob.

Naga’s name rips from deep down in your chest, and you ask her, beg her, for an answer, for a another chance.

You need another chance, you failed this time, and the first, you need another chance.

Your chest heaves for air, your mouth begging for water.

Morgan always keeps water with them, in a compartment they’d added to the inside of your coat, you remember.

You bite your lip.

It sickens you when you think that instead of borrowing from a sibling, you’ll be stealing from the dead, it sickens you for more reasons than one.

But you slowly crawl forward, the spines still left ignored under your hands and legs. 

You find the water, and you gulp it down greedily like a dying man caught in drought. 

Maybe the comparison isn't too far off.

Shakily, you stand, reaching for Father’s Falchion as you do. 

The blade matches your own again. 

The former golden glow of the Exalted Falchion was gone in his death.

Father is dead, you know, and it hurts so much, but you don't dwell on it.

You can't dwell on it.

The sword remains dull for a moment.

But then a sudden light flares and you drop your own sword to shield your eyes.

When you dare to peek through your fingers, the ochroid radiance is there again, and you marvel, staring the blade with tired eyes.

Maybe Naga is still watching over you, you decide with a bitter and fleeting smile.

You stumble towards Grima, struggling to keep the sword upright.

Your hands shake with grief.

Your vision blurs from exhaustion. 

Your legs are weak and sore from the time you spent kneeling over your comrades’ bodies.

You can't win this fight.

Yet you charge towards the Fell Dragon, with your father's sword in hand.

Your mother lies behind Grima - he can’t kill her of course, or he would die as well.

You’re knocked back by some invisible force, some kind of magic.

You land heavily, but you stand and charge again, moving on autopilot.

And yet again, you’re thrown back, like a child’s ragdoll.

You try and try and try again, but you can’t touch Grima, let alone kill him.

Part of you wants sorely to give up, let him kill you, let it all end.

But before you are human, before you are a person, you are the princess of Ylisse, and, in this moment, you hold the lives of all of Ylisse in your palm.

So you shakily stand up yet again, and look back at the garden of corpses behind you.

You remember your last kiss with Severa, before the battle, when you tried to kiss away the fear in her eyes though you know it reflected your own.

You remember your last bath with Mother, sitting in a Chon'sin style bath and laughing over the most trivial of things in the tepid steam.

You remember the last time you stayed up late with Morgan, sitting under a blanket with a lantern and giggling over the tiny rebellious action.

You remember your last training session with Father, when you both collapsed onto the ground, gulping down icy water, when Father started laughing and you followed, though neither of you knew why.

You remember flying with Gerome, warm hugs from Cynthia, smiling at Owain’s antics, reassuring Yarne of his safety.

You remember marveling at Nah’s dragon form, archery lessons with Noire, watching as Inigo was rejected for the thousandth time, studing with Laurent.

You remember watching Brady play his violin, your last lunch with Kjelle, chatting with Tiki, and helping Aunt Lissa with her pranks.

And you run towards Grima one last time, grab Falchion the second before he throws you again.

As you fly back, you throw Father’s Falchion and watch it pierce Grima’s chest.

You land heavily, feeling something -a rib or two, maybe- crack.

Then you prop yourself up on your elbow and watch in horror as Grima starts laughing.

The dragon grips the sword hilt and pulls it out of his chest.

Whatever wound was there was already healing, disappearing as Grima threw the legendary blade aside.

Something grabs you, clutching you by your neck and lifting you off the Dragon's back. 

You couldn't move.

Try as you might, you couldn't find the energy to move, to continue fighting. 

You close your eyes.

Now you can join Father.

And Morgan.

And Severa.

And everyone else who died against this cursed dragon.

“I’m sorry, everyone.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at natade13 ;3c


End file.
